


Like There's A Tomorrow

by CharismaticEnticer



Category: Die Anstalt
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Abandonment, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, No Funetik Aksent, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Spiritual Follow-Up, the institution is a bit darker than other fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharismaticEnticer/pseuds/CharismaticEnticer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dolly bares her soul, and her closest friend takes it in, perched on a chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like There's A Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pollyrepeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollyrepeat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Institution (or: Sparkles and the Great Escape)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632242) by [pollyrepeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollyrepeat/pseuds/pollyrepeat). 



> Surprise. ^-^ I bet you weren't expecting this small thing to go up here, were you?
> 
> Originally written and published in summer 2012. This is the last of my pre-AO3 stories.
> 
> Die Anstalt © Martin Kittsteiner. Sparkles © AO3 author pollyrepeat. I received permission from her for me to use him in art and fic, and this is the first time I've officially done anything with that permission, haha. I've got another spiritual-follow-up / alternate-perspective-of-it plan in the works, though.

"You really like that chair, don’t you?"

He raises his head from his knees to see Dolly staring at him again. There’s a different complexity to it now, warm rather than cold, and not creepy like the first time.

When  **was**  the first time? When did he discover the chair in question, the yellow one with the wobbly leg? How long has he been here? Six weeks, eight, ten? More than three, for sure.   
Was it really that far back when he first entered die Anstalt to begin this last mission? 

He nods in response to Dolly’s question, and to his own, the last. 

"I thought so. You sit in it every time we’re in here. Is it comfy?"

Yes, in its own way. The chair is always there, and it never has to leave to get fixed. One of the few consistent comforts in this place. 

"What are the others then?" she presses. 

Everything he likes. He likes the chair. He likes the pills, settled at last into purple and green and yellow. He likes Dub, when he pulls himself out for a few minutes. He likes Dr Burgess and Nurse Schwartz.

He likes Dolly. 

"I like you too. A lot." She smiles, with a ghost of sadness. "…Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Hope you don’t mind."

He straightens himself and looks at her in attention, listening. 

She starts, paradoxically, with the metaphorical elephant in the room. “I… don’t think either of us are going to get out of here any day soon. I’ve been here for quite a while. I can barely remember life outside this place without going all fuzzy. And… and weren’t you supposed to only be here for three weeks? A trial basis?”

No, there’s still a chance to get out, he protests. He’s been making good progress. Dr Burgess said so. 

"So has Dub, so have I. But we’re not getting out." She pauses, and her voice drops to nearly inaudible levels. "It’s because we’ve been shown - what’s - under the bed."

He flinches at the resurfacing memory of that monster under the sheets. It woke him up, but at the time,  **no** , he doesn’t want to think of that, no no. And yet, more memories come, of before, of when he first started this, of those three years in the closet, of Ange and…

Dolly puts a hoof on his paw, bringing him back out, back to her. The rubbing of the fabrics against each other feels nice to him, soothing. Briefly, he wants her to rub his shoulders too, or his stomach. 

"So like I said. We’re pretty much stuck here, aren’t we?" she continues. "So… the thing is, when I think about the next few days, weeks… months… I don’t like thinking of it as "my future", and "your future", separate." She squeezes his paw. "I want to think of it as - well - "us".  _Our_  future. Getting through this together, you know what I mean?”

After a pause, a second for that to register, he nods. “I like you, Dolly.”

"Yes, and I like you, you idiot, I  **really**  like you. Probably more than you know,” she says, backing away a little now, briefly looking down. “That’s why I want this. I want to hold your paw like I just did, to sit next to you more, to share oatmeal with you in the morning and steal some from Sly when he wanders away from the table all the time so we both get the same amount, to listen to you talk, to talk to you, to…to…  
"I want us. I want a special future, just for us. You see?"

He looks at her, the soft white curls, the wagging tail, the eyes, for a good long minute, then shrinks into the yellow chair again. 

"I don’t know. It’s soon, and sudden." He forces the next words out of his mouth, painfully, filtered through a memory he thought he’d forgotten, that he’d longed to forget. "And aft- after Ange did what she… I don’t think I could-"

"No, no, that’s fine," she insists, audibly suppressing a new snarl in her throat. "I thought that’d… Sorry." 

"Don’t get me wrong, you are a good—" he tries to amend. "But - it’s too soon. I need to think."

"Yeah, think, you do that." She nods. "But… but when you’re done thinking, I’ll be in the usual place, okay?"

"Okay."

She turns away, prepares to bound to the other side of the room, and a deeper part of him is saying  _you idiot, you’ve made her sad, give her a little hope, give her a hug, give her **anything**_.

"Dolly, wait," he calls out, stopping her before she can go. There’s no easy way to say what he wants to say, so he just says it. "If it makes you feel better, I. You’ve made my time in this place, you’ve made it better than it would have been without you."

"…you’re just saying that." But the growl from her voice is vanishing. 

"No, for real. Dolly, thank you. Thanks for being here. I mean it." 

She turns back to him, and her smile is much clearer now, less troubled. “You’re a sweet thing, Sparkles,” she says, then bounds back over and kisses him briefly on the cheek, and then goes again. 

Sparkles curls up tighter in the chair to keep this rare flicker of warmth. 


End file.
